


A Very Small Wish

by mashaghost



Category: Neko no Ongaeshi | The Cat Returns
Genre: Gen, i will take any chance to write surreal Things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28414122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mashaghost/pseuds/mashaghost
Summary: A pleading request from a parent whose daughter has been cursed by a resentful witch is nothing truly out of the ordinary for the Cat Bureau— in fact, it might be so common so as to be routine— so why does something feel inherently off about this particular one?
Comments: 3





	1. The Very Pretty Vanya

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deedeeflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deedeeflowers/gifts).



> Written for the TCR Secret Santa this year! The prompt I chose was ‘the bureau meets a witch/Baba Yaga’, which I was, ngl, low-key stoked to work on laughs  
> There are six chapters in all. Later chapters are not entirely finished yet, so I may post somewhat slowly and in small parts, sorry. Most of everything except the last two chapters is written, tho.  
> I also apologize bc not only is this the first time I’m writing for these particular characters, and this many characters laughs, but I also worry it takes a bit to really Get Going orz

There have been a relatively  _ healthy  _ number of visitors to the Cat Bureau since Haru’s memorable rescue from the Cat Kingdom, and many have boasted much  _ stranger  _ forms than the one currently pleading his case before them all, and yet Haru finds herself unable to relax in his presence, much less take her eyes off him. Even the Cat Kingdom, with its unfamiliarity and… unhinged king, had not matched the levels of  _ uncanny  _ this particular creature emits.

He had shown up on the Bureau’s door with something of a showman’s flourish, introducing himself immediately as ‘the very pretty Vanya creature’, and as a traveler from a realm named Oostal. He’d then started  _ weeping  _ and demanded their listening ears. (Baron, being the soft-hearted philanthropist he was, could  _ never  _ have found it in himself to turn  _ anyone  _ away, much less one such anyone in the middle of an apparent nervous breakdown.)

“—targeted my beloved daughter is what she  _ did _ ,” the ‘very pretty Vanya creature’ is now in the middle of lamenting, both his tiny paws covered in an ivory-colored handkerchief, which he occasionally uses to wipe at his teary eyes. The lace hem sewn onto the silk is slightly tattered. “I knew of no other place to  _ turn  _ to _!  _ She has given me only 47  _ hours _ , the dirty troublemaker _! _ ”

“Please calm down, Mr. Vanya. I assure you, we’ll figure something out. More tea, perhaps? Tissues..?”

Vanya waves his paw and shakes his head. “No, no, those aren’t necessary.” And, then, after a pause, “Though I will take more tea. Thank you.”

Baron graciously refills the  ostensible fox’s teacup, before continuing. “Now. Do correct me if I have the details wrong, but I believe you are requesting assistance in lifting a  _ curse  _ that’s been placed upon your daughter.”

Vanya, loudly slurping his tea, stops abruptly to nod vivaciously (nearly sloshing what little tea remains in the cup all over himself). “ _ Yes _ , that’s precisely it _! _ A  _ curse _ . Me and little Virtuous Siree are nothing more than entertainment for her— she runs out of funny things to watch and turns to torment us normal folk.”

“The witch,” Baron supplies helpfully, with a questioning edge to it just in case his assumption is wrong.

“The witch _! _ ” Vanya echoes in a mournful sob, again burying his face into what must by now be a drenched handkerchief. (In doing so, of course, his neglected cup of tea flies from his paw and shatters on the floor. The only saving grace is that there’s mere drops of tea left in it. How Baron is keeping his composure, Haru isn’t certain, but perhaps Muta is eyeing the stranger with enough barely-concealed repugnance for the both of them.)

To herself, she only briefly contemplates how she no longer remembers what it was like to be the Haru who would have been  _ surprised  _ at the existence of witches and talking foxes with unearthly vibes.

“This curse— I’m gathering this witch has given you a chance to break it should you choose to undertake her challenges. Are those challenges what you’ve come seeking assistance with?”

Muta gives a snorting scoff from his lounging spot in the arm chair opposite Baron. “What kinda  _ witch  _ allows their victims to seek outside help, uh?”

“This one does,” Vanya answers blithely, either not catching Muta’s disbelieving tone or… simply not caring. He appears to look around himself, most likely for his teacup, before spying it lying broken on the floor below him. Eyebrows knitting to form a remorseful expression, he leans forward to pick it back up, an action that appears to catch Baron off-guard.

“Now, that’s not necessary— should you desire more tea, I can certainly retrieve a new cup for you—”

But Vanya only smiles at him, so widely that his eyes narrow to near slits and his fluffy cheeks puff out. “Waste not.”

The complacent calm Haru was beginning to feel is abruptly once again besieged by unease. 

She just doesn’t understand it. There is  _ nothing  _ particularly bizarre or eerie about his appearance, not by talking animal standards. He stands somewhat awkwardly on his hind legs much like the cats of the Cat Kingdom do, and is clad in a long coat with colorful floral patterns that tug at some half-remembered knowledge somewhere in Haru’s memory. His ears are too big for him. His tail is too long. His large black eyes stand out starkly against the creamy white of his fur. Yet still, for all intents and purposes, he is only a normal fox who happens to speak. And wear clothes. And drink tea.

...Well, she  _ had  _ specified he was normal by talking animal standards.

In the meantime, the conversation seems to have moved on to these challenges the witches had set forth in order to break the curse upon his daughter.

“There are three tasks in all,” Vanya explains, then clears his throat, effecting a distinctly grande tone and something like a poetic cadence. “ _ Bring me these three things, and I shall abide— the summer berry which grows in the wintry forest, unaware of what time has passed. The clever Top-Top egg which understands the value of blending in, yet no jewels nor gold has it amassed. And an eye from the Lindenflower Beast. Its fatal repayment has long since been cast _ .”

Then, in the thoughtful silence that remains after his… well, performance, Vanya lets it linger for a full thirty seconds, and then immediately returns to messily slurping his tea. (Baron doesn’t recall refilling the broken cup.)

“Figures a witch would phrase her demands in a riddle,” Muta eventually deadpans.

“It’s a good thing we’re not relying on you to solve it,” Toto quips unflinchingly.

Muta turns swiftly to glare at the magpie, but his irate retort will have to remain a mystery, as Vanya cheerfully speaks up again.

“Oh, I’ve solved the riddle.”

“Wh— you  _ have _ ..?”

“I have _! _ ”

“And...  _ how  _ long has it been since the witch inflicted your daughter with this curse and imposed these tasks upon you in exchange for peace?”

Vanya pauses to count on his paws, but the fact he has only four tiny claws means the attempt is quickly abandoned for the futility it is. Instead, he moves to ostensibly counting the hours in his head, and for so long that the Bureau are all bracing for the unpromising news. 

“Three hours and twelven-teen minutes.”

“...That’s all..?” Muta sounds skeptical.

“You must be  _ brilliant  _ at riddles,” Haru says.

“And traveling.” Another pointed observation from Toto.

Vanya seems to bask in these comments, clearly missing some of their more dubious, questioning elements. Baron, meanwhile, with the practiced air of an unflappable counselor, speaks up to turn the conversation back to its roots.

“This is quite auspicious news, Mr. Vanya. With no need to devote time to puzzling out the witch’s riddle, we can focus purely on the tasks she’s assigned to you in order to lift your daughter’s curse. Do you mind giving us a more tangible summation of these three tasks, then?”

“No minding _! _ How would the very helpful Cat Bureau  _ do  _ their helpfulness if Vanya has not told them what helpfulness they’re doing?”

“In… Indeed.”

“The summer berry is simple _! _ In Oostal, there exists a forest known as the Sown. Eternal winter in those parts, including the forest, but rumors abound of a hidden surplus of strawberries growing within its boundaries somewhere, as the rumored inhabitants must subsist off of  _ something _ .” Distractedly, Vanya wiggles the loose handle on his teacup, seemingly none the wiser to the surprised silence emanating from his companions. “Second— the Top-Top is long gone, but their  _ glorious  _ city lies in ruins still. And the pretty eggs still linger, too, I imagine. It was such an abrupt denouement.”

“I guess that one’s less of a riddle, then, if you know what a Top-Top is,” Toto remarks.

Vanya seems to snap out of his content, confident haze then, fixing Toto with a wide-eyed and disappointed look. “Is it? Oh, that’s a shame.”

When he turns his attention back to the shattered teacup, it’s with furrowed brows and his predictable wounded air. “...maybe that one  _ was  _ too obvious. Oh, well.”

“...and the third? This Lindenflower Beast..?” Baron eventually prompts again.

“The Lindenflower Beast _! _ Well, that one is the trickiest.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Because there  _ is  _ no Lindenflower Beast,” Vanya answers succinctly. Some faint amusement seems to glitter in his dark eyes, and his ensuing laugh is shrill. Muta winces; it does little to endear him any more to this peculiar character. “No creature exists that has ever borne the name Lindenflower Beast, not in modernity nor in myth _! _ But _! _ There did once exist one  _ Lubov _ , a benevolent guardian of the mountains the Oostaliworlders of old adored. So adored was it, they all gathered together to discuss how best to repay it for its boundless kindness.”

“The, ah,  _ fatal  _ repayment, I assume.”

“Mm _! _ They all thought to themselves— ‘why not a beautiful home?’ So they built a wonderful, most opulent house around it, and it starved to death. So that was a downer, I am sure.”

‘Downer’ seemed somewhat like an understatement, Haru thought to herself in distant sympathy for all involved with this mythical fiasco. What a terrible story.

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions, as some like to say in our realm,” Toto notes quietly. 

“And the eye we must obtain from this creature..?”

“By most accounts, the Lubov  _ had  _ no eyes,” Vanya continues blithely. 

“Then how are we supposed to—”

“Do not despair, Mr. Moo _! _ ” Muta bristles at this ‘nickname’, much to Toto’s amusement. “The Lubov was long reputed to have the ability to see through lies and enchantments, right to the very heart of its visitors. Eyes are not necessary for that kind of sight, but magic is. And the Lubov had no shortage of that.”

“So the legends say, I assume.”

“Yes. The Lubov may be long gone from Oostal, but its magic still remains. In its final moments of despair, it created a relic into which it poured all of its secrets before finally perishing, and that relic is rumored to still lie in the Lubov’s resting place. It is just a matter of fetching it _! _ ”

_ Final moments of despair _ . Again Haru’s heart aches for this creature and the misunderstanding which led to its demise.

“So, you’ve figured everything out all on your own in record time, good for you. What are you bothering  _ us  _ with it for?”

Vanya appears rather perturbed by Muta’s  apparent lack of investment in his plight, and, to himself, Baron finds he can’t blame him. He folds his hands in his lap, canting his head toward his associate pointedly as he responds. “I assume our client had hoped that we might assist him in the retrieval of these three items so that he will pass muster with the time limit imposed upon him, Muta. Is that correct, Mr. Vanya?”

“Yes _! _ Correct _! _ The prettiest Vanya creature is smart and fast, but not to that degree _! _ To save The Most Virtuous Siree, I’m seeking the timely assistance.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Muta grumbles to himself, crossing his arms and slouching even more than he was already. “Still think it’s weird this witchy gal didn’t put any restrictions on getting outside help.”

“...It  _ is  _ truly odd that this witch would find no issue in you receiving help from strangers in order to accomplish her tasks,” Baron muses in agreement. “You’re quite certain of this exemption, then?”

“Didja get it in writing?” Muta adds dubiously.

“But of course,” Vanya says in his already characteristic impugned way. “I’m no  _ fool _ , I’ll have you know _! _ Not only did I get it in writing, I got it signed _! _ On official witchy paper _! _ ”

“Excellent. But we should like to see that paper, if you don’t mind. Just to be certain of its contents.”

“It’s at home,” Vanya says with an injured sniff. “Virtuous Siree is looking after it and the house. I must return to her at once, you know. No soul in their right mind will come to a home wherein a monster dwells, but first they have to  _ know _ .”

“Yes, of course. It seems there’s little time to spare; we should leave just as soon as the requisite preparations are completed. Do you mind waiting?”

“No. But I  _ do  _ catch the unmistakable scent of cinnamon rolls somewhere in this room, and they  _ do  _ happen to be my very favorite…”

Judging from Muta’s indignant expression, he is  _ not  _ at all willing to share those clandestine cinnamon rolls.

“That’s an old scent. Already ate ‘em all,” he claims.

Vanya sighs exaggeratedly, stirring… whatever he now has in his still-broken half of a teacup (with a spoon no one had given to him, no less). “Oh, that’s too bad. It’s poor little Virtuous Siree’s favorite, too. She’s been  _ inconsolable  _ since her horrific transformation. She does her best to hide it from me, but a father knows. I just  _ know  _ it would have brought just the tiniest modicum of joy to my little Virtuous Siree— just imagining her trembling, feeble attempt at a smile as she bears this undeserved curse so bravely brings tears to my eyes— _! _ ” Another nonchalant sip. “Oh, well.”

If Muta were a balloon, he’d be deflated and limp on the Burea’s floor by now, ears back against his head, arms crossed tightly in reluctance, and all with an expression that speaks to perhaps the most tremendous war waged in the Bureau tonight— that between his growing enmity toward the Vanya creature and that little gold heart he’s always so hasty to repudiate.

“Alright, al _ right _ .. _!! _ Twist my arm until it  _ pops  _ off, why don’t you- _! _ ...I’ll bring some goodies for the baby…”

“Excellent _! _ Magnificent _! _ …Make sure they don’t dry out, too.” 

Muta only scarcely glimpses the look on Haru’s face before pointedly looking away with a surly ‘hmph’— while she hadn’t entirely  _ purposefully  _ meant to rib him, she’s certainly not at all surprised some of her amusement must have shown through.

_ You big  _ **_softie_ ** , she’s thinking to herself affectionately, and he knows it.

Baron, too, seems to be sporting something of a muted smile at the expected surrender, setting his teacup down and dusting off his hands once or twice.

“Well. Time and tide wait for no man, as they say. Or, I suppose in this case I should amend it to ‘no being.’ We’ll be right with you, Mr. Vanya.”

“Oh, I’ll have an entrance waiting, then,” Vanya responds casually, and silence settles over the group. At times like this, Toto thinks to himself, it becomes quite unfortunately clear how much of a tight ship they do  _ not  _ run. Baron is, naturally, quite adept at concealing his own feelings on this over-reliance on serendipity and fortuitity, to the point even Toto himself isn’t entirely sure what they consist of.

Now, however, Vanya is glancing between the four of them with a muddled look, the smaller half of his fractured teacup lying absently in his lap.

“Perfect,” Baron quickly responds in cordial agreement before anyone else can.

Later, clad in a long secondhand coat which contrasts humorously with the mild early autumn weather, Haru finds herself wandering to Toto’s side. He and Baron have forgone the preventive seasonal wear, perhaps understandably so.

Out a little distance away, Vanya had taken out a trio of oil pastels (at least, what appeared to be oil pastels by Haru’s approximation) and now kneels on the cobblestones busily drawing shapes and symbols directly onto them.

Toto turns to her with a good-natured, but characteristically sharp, eye. “...You know, you don’t have to come with us, Haru. You were just visiting for tea today. I don’t think wandering off to yet another fantastical realm and getting into a potential hassle was part of your plans today.”

“I want to come,” Haru counters, linking her hands behind her. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll save you guys this time, ha.”

“Maybe,” Toto agrees readily enough.

A subdued silence descends over them, then, their attention collectively focused on Muta and Vanya, the former of which is eyeing the symbols with unabashed skepticism.

“You barely said a word through everything earlier, Toto,” Haru remarks lightly after a moment. “What are your thoughts about all this?”  _ About the Vanya creature _ , she doesn’t say, but she’s sure he’s canny enough to pick up on it anyway.

The avian Creation doesn’t respond immediately, his eyes following the indirect subject of their conversation as he flits from one spot to another like an engrossed hummingbird. It’s when Vanya pushes himself back up into an eager standing position and stomps his foot three times, and the cobblestones appear to fold outwards one by one, that Toto gives a short, humorless laugh and shakes his head.

“My thoughts are that it’s too early to act on any assumptions. And also that this case is going to be a curious one.”

“Well, that’s always a given.”

“I guess it is,” he responds agreeably. 

Vanya is gesturing proudly to the ‘entrance’ he’s made for a gobsmacked Muta. It doesn’t take long for him to turn to Haru and Toto, as well, and motion excitedly for them to admire his handiwork, too.

“Let’s get on with it, then. That time limit’s still ticking away.”


	2. Virtuous Siree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter of six of my Secret Santa gift. I had the realization that it actually takes a Bit for the witch part of this to show up, and I apologize for that orz This is also the shortest chapter so far, but the next one will hopefully make up for that, as it's just about double the length of this one, ha  
> For now, however, we have a chapter in which Haru has a chat with a beloved monster (i’m sorry that was a very vague shrek reference)

She might be hesitant to admit it, but Haru is almost disappointed to meet the cursed daughter, having halfway convinced herself in her unshakable unnerved skepticism that the Vanya creature had crafted her existence wholesale from lies and nothingness. Yet here she is, standing before them with her hands (hands? it’s hard to tell) folded in a mannerly fashion in front of her. Her long, golden veil is in much better shape than her father’s handkerchief, though the odd snag and rip is perhaps inevitable when one is in possession of what appears to be a pair of curly horns.

She is _otherwise_ far from inconspicuous, as well; the gauzy shroud masking her person still reveals the aforementioned horns, and a pointed snout, and little hands adorned with inch-long claws. A long, hairless tail snakes out from behind her, curling at her feet like a sleeping dog.

Perhaps the most pressing thing, however, is that the same uneasy chill runs through Haru within this strange, half-concealed child’s presence as it does when her father is around. For the first time, she wonders if it’s _not_ , in fact, her blunted human instincts furiously trying to warn her of Vanya’s true nature and simply a facet of his kind’s existence.

Vanya wanders into her line of sight again, standing beside his daughter with a laughably manic, skittish energy and reaching for her clawed hand. Haru notes the two are very nearly the same height. Yet, to hers (and probably the Bureau’s surprise, as well), he appears to have little trouble lifting her off the ground and holding her out to them, as if he’d worried they wouldn’t understand just how truly monstrous she’d become should he not bring her closer to their eyelines.

“This is my daughter, Virtuous Siree.” He seems to take a certain, special glee in saying so. “She is exquisitely cute _!_ Like a _baby_. I’ve had her for years now.”

Virtuous Siree, though her face is obscured by the veil, seems unbothered by this treatment, inclining her head politely to their guests.

“Pleased to meet you.” Her voice echoes much like a lonely call in an empty stairwell, resulting in the definitively disorienting effect of two separate people speaking in unison.

“…And you, as well.” Baron is the first to recover from the oddness of the situation, removing his hat and bowing, and the rest of them follow suit shortly after (sans Muta, anyway, who gives a more characteristically terse greeting).

“Thank you, by the way,” Virtuous Siree then continues, as casually blithe as her father. “For taking the case. We are beyond aromatized to have obtained your assistance _!_ ”

Behind her, Vanya utters a noise somewhere between a squeal and a sob, and then hugs her close to him. “Cute _!_ She’s too cute _!_ Virtuous Siree, did you have a good day today?”

“Yes, Papa, I worked in the garden. The cherries are ripening on the vine _!_ And I started a new painting when I was done.”

“Your funny prickly face horns are sticking me through my fur _!_ ” Yet, he appears to make no motions to pull away. (Haru sneaks an amused look at Muta; sure enough, the mystified frown on his own face makes it clear he’s as lost about how to feel about this interaction as she’d expected him to be.)

“How far of a journey is the Sown Forest from here, Vanya?”

The fox glances at Toto only from the very corners of his eyes at first, but the expression lacks even the most minuscule hint of suspicion. He pulls his face away from Virtuous Siree’s veiled one, placing her back on the ground with a happy coo.

“I can’t tell you how far, but it will take….” Here he counts futilely on his tiny paws again. “…eighteen-twenty minutes _!_ ”

“…You mean, eighteen to twenty minutes?”

Vanya hesitates, and here, now, it becomes obvious he’s beginning to pick up on Toto’s skepticism. When he answers this time, he’s back to his ~~by now expected~~ plaintive offense.

“Time works differently in Oostal _!_ I’m only a little creature from Oostal, and I don’t know your Earthical time measurements _!_ ” He cries.

“Papa’s trying his best,” Virtuous Siree interjects with the modest passion one might expect from a shy girl her age, patting her father on the paw.

“To focus on the pretty Vanya Creature’s tenuous grasp of a time he’s never used before when his cute daughter is at risk of being cursed forever _!_ ”

“ _Yeah_ , birdbrain, that’s real heartless of ya,” Muta can’t help but add (a marked testament to how much he enjoys antagonizing the crow, if even his antipathy for the Vanya creature doesn’t see him pass up the opportunity.)

“But if time works differently, how are we meant to keep track of how long we have?” Toto asks, side-eyeing Muta with no small degree of smug amusement. (For his part, Muta seems uncertain whether to take this abrupt subject change as a surrender or a snub.)

“Use a pocket watch,” is Vanya’s dismissive reply.

Baron finds himself rather suddenly the object of vested interest for three pairs of eyes; Muta, Haru, and Toto all three almost instantly turn to him. He looks from each one to the other in moderate bemusement for mere seconds before his shoulders relax in a subtle show of resignation.

“ _Yes_ , I have one with me.”

“Wouldn’t have been you if you didn’t,” Toto teases with a smile.

“Of course,” Baron deigns to play along with a faintly put-upon tone.

“Where’s that _witchy paper_ you said you got, anyway?” Muta asks Vanya. “The one that says it’s okay for you to get help from strangers. Don’t think I forgot about it,” he ends with crabbily.

“I left it on the table _!_ ” Vanya replies with a matching huff, less than humored by Muta’s skepticism.

Here Virtuous Siree jumps to contribute, expression molded into a contrite, abashed frown, “Oh, _no_ — _Papa_ , those papers got blown away earlier today _!_ I-I opened the door to go out into the garden, and a bigly strong gust blew in _!_ ”

“Seriously—?”

“They blew up into the surrounding trees,” Virtuous Siree continues, more chastened than before in the face of Muta’s apparent exasperation, a reaction which seems to give the cat some considerable pause. “I couldn’t reach them.”

Vanya pats her head.

“It’s no significant loss that they did _!_ We can search for them when I go to pick up the leg up in our sleeves.”

The perplexed silence which settles after Vanya’s words lingers heavily, but at least only briefly.

“ _Oh_ ,” Toto first responds with a dawning amusement and the slightest of laughs. “You have something in mind to help make these tasks less of a struggle.”

Vanya nods enthusiastically, giving no indication of having discerned their earlier confusion, nor why Toto then felt the need to clarify. His tail, also, curls into an excitable question mark shape before relaxing again.

“It will take just a moment— I hid it in the root cellar with the other cates.”

“And the root cellar is—?”

“At the edge of the property, by the fence.”

“Very well. It shouldn’t take us long, I think, but we ought to depart right away. Please lead the way, Mr. Vanya.”

“I’ll stay here,” Haru speaks up. “I’d feel a little bad leaving Virtuous Siree all alone again, even if it is just a few minutes— I don’t mind keeping her company. I mean—” Here she turns to the girl herself with a sheepish expression, hands folded bashfully behind her back. “ —if she doesn’t _mind_ my company, of course.”

“I don’t mind _!_ ” Virtuous Siree responds with a resolute shake of her head.

“Good, goods _!_ ” Vanya agrees in delight. There’s yet another almost cat-like expression of affection from him, rubbing his cheek against Siree’s as he swings their joined hands. “Play nice, Cute Siree. We’ll be back before you know it _!_ ”

* * *

The little house in which Vanya and Virtuous Siree have made their home is in all honesty not all that strange to Haru. At least, in the sense that it has walls and doors and windows, and furniture with purposes that are easy enough to grasp upon laying eyes on them. Yet two things still stand out to her as unusual. 

The first is that the walls, if not the house entirely, give the rather distinct impression that the entire thing had been carved from an enormous gourd or another hardy vegetable of sorts. When Haru furtively lays a hand on one of the few unoccupied walls, she finds she can’t discern the material by sight _or_ touch.

The outside of the house hadn’t struck her as so outlandish. It certainly hadn’t appeared to be a massive vegetable.

The second, as previously alluded to, is that almost every available surface is _buried_ beneath an arbitrary variety of countless objects— threadbare coats, rusted silverware, broken trinkets.

Distantly, Haru recalls Vanya’s pithy words regarding his shattered teacup— _waste not_. Seems he kept that particular aphorism close to his heart.

Vanya’s daughter has claimed a spot at the round table in the middle of the room, perched precariously on a wobbly stool with a set of messy watercolor paints and a well-worn brush.

Her face is still hidden, but Haru can still tell her companion (Virtuous Siree, as her father has stubbornly referred to her, and it’s still a terribly odd name to Haru) is shyly stealing glances at her, one after the other, before quickly looking away again, back to her painting.

“Can I draw something, too?” Haru eventually asks to divert the tension.

Virtuous Siree jumps on the distraction. “Oh, yes _!_ You can _!_ Papa always keeps plenty of paper and paints around for me _!_ ”

The girl jumps off her stool and scurries to a cabinet across the room, behind a pile of ostensible scarves and socks (the cabinet itself also piled high with an unimaginably diverse array of items— hairbrushes, hats, and tattered books, just to name a few.) In a snap, Virtuous Siree has an identical spot to her own set up at the table beside her for Haru.

“Here you are _!_ Would you like a flat or a round brush..?”

Haru, having never been much a painter, finds herself somewhat stumped at the question, glancing back and forth between the two brushes for a half-minute before sheepishly speaking up. “Actually, this is silly, but do you have anything more fit for an amateur? I don’t do much drawing, and I’d hate to waste some of your good materials.”

Virtuous Siree laughs, a short, girlish noise that quite comically clashes with her unnatural-sounding voice, and waves her hand. “Don’t be silly, I have plenty of materials. You can’t waste them if you used them to do something fun.”

“O-Oh… Well, I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“If you want to start slow, though, hmm…” Virtuous Siree scampers across the room again, stooping to look in her cabinet; Haru hears her shuffle various objects around as she searches for something specific. “Oh _!_ I have some wax crayons. They’re a little used, though.”

“Oh, that’s okay. They’ll be perfect.”

It’s when Haru is settled again, this time staring down at a sheaf of brown, grainy papers— thick, heavy, with a distinct weave to the tiny fibers that must make up the sheets— that she finds herself beset by another stumbling block. She hasn’t drawn anything since she was a child, and those childish scribbles had consisted mostly of attempts at whatever animals had caught her eye.

Absently, she wonders if her skills have managed to budge past their old level. Probably not. But, there’s no time like the present to find out, she supposes. She’ll try drawing Baron.

“What does the name Virtuous Siree mean?”

Virtuous Siree gives a pensive noise. “You don’t have to call me Virtuous Siree. Just Siree is fine. Only Papa calls me _Virtuous_ Siree– he added the first part a little while ago.”

“Okay, Siree, then. If you like, you can call me just Haru.”

“I’ll do that _!_ ” Then, remembering what Haru’s original question was, she adds diffidently, “‘Siree’ is just a filler word in Oostal’s language, but it has a– umm, an _implication_ of emphasis. It’s what you use to boost the feelings in what you’re trying to get across when you can’t remember a word.”

Haru pauses in her attempt to color in one of Baron’s eyes. “Does that mean your name with the addition of ‘Virtuous’ is kind of like saying ‘really virtuous?’”

“It is _!_ ” Siree admits with an almost embarrassed laugh. “Papa’s very silly sometimes.”

To herself, Haru thinks that sounds like yet another vast understatement.

“…Have you ever dealt with witch’s magic before?” Virtuous Siree asks.

“Not…. _witch’s_ magic, no. At least, I don’t think so. But I was transformed into a cat once,” Haru says, carefully drawing a spiral on her paper with a yellow crayon (her interpretation of the sun. It won’t do to put crayon scribble Baron into a rainy, sad environment, after all).

“What’s a cat?” Siree asks.

“Oh— um. It’s an… an animal from my world. They look a little like your father, but a little bigger. Oh _!_ Actually, Muta and Baron– well, Muta _is_ a cat, but Baron just looks like one.” Then, abruptly remembering Siree has been cursed and must therefore look quite similar to her father under normal circumstances, Haru hastily adds, “I-I guess they’d look like _you_ , too, wouldn’t they?”

Siree nods slightly, even though she hasn’t looked away from her own painting. When she speaks, her voice is soft, shy again.

“They’re cute. I wish I could be cute, too, like Papa. Or, um, like I was.”

Somewhere, that gentle, beseeching string of words tugs at an old fear, one that had been allayed rather completely with the return to her normal form but not altogether forgotten— that of losing her familiar reflection. What was on the inside ultimately wouldn’t have changed, and there had always been little flaws in her human appearance she could have spent hours complaining about, but… in the end, her face, her humanness, had been held more dear by her than she could ever have realized without being transformed against her will.

“Don’t worry,” Haru finds herself saying. “Baron and the Bureau managed to rescue me from becoming a cat. They’ll do the same for you, no problem. You just wait. You’ll be your old self in no time.”

Siree’s brushstrokes slow and then stop altogether. She moves so that Haru knows she must be studying her thoughtfully, and the very knowledge of Siree’s no doubt unblinking, pensive gaze trained intently on her is enough to give her goosebumps again.

“…You’re very kind,” the girl eventually remarks. Then, finally looking away (Haru’s pretty sure, at least), she adds, “I like that. I hope you make it out safe.”

“I have the Bureau,” Haru says surely. “I’ll be fine.”

“Well, I hope they stay safe, too,” Siree adds.

As if wise to the fact they’d been the subject of the past few moments of conversation, the Bureau (accompanied, of course, by Vanya) arrive just seconds after with the familiar sound of the beginnings of an altercation between Muta and Toto. Vanya again wastes little time in hugging Siree.

“You’re back,” Haru says in the meantime. “Are we good to go now, then?”

“Yeah,” Muta breaks off his disagreement with Toto to answer with a shrug. “Whatever the pipsqueak picked up, it didn’t take long.”

“It’s a surprise _!_ ” Vanya protests, turning a haughty gaze upon Muta. Then, thoughtfully, he amends, “…A good surprise.”

Haru, thinking of Vanya’s original haste in returning to his daughter, and seeing perhaps the same veiled concern in Baron’s and Toto’s faces, nudges the avian Creation beside her, and… well, _bless_ him, Toto takes very little time to speak up for them all.

“Will Virtuous Siree be alright here all by herself?”

Vanya rocks back and forth a few times, dragging poor Siree with him (though she seems unbothered, at least). “Yes, yes, Virtuous Siree is safe here. There are neighbors _!_ …In fact, _if_ she feels scared, she should go next door to Mr. Gleb.” This spoken directly to Siree, despite the odd choice in phrasing.

“I will, Papa,” Siree answers without hesitation.

It’s here that Vanya lets her go with one last delighted chirrup, bounding over to the door and the Bureau and darting outside. Before following suit (…somewhat), Haru turns back to the girl and flashes her a reassuring smile.

“Bye, Siree _!_ Stay safe, and don’t worry— we’ll get you all fixed up.”

“I know you will _!_ ”

As far as Haru can tell, Siree continues waving until they can’t see each other, and something about the dedication instills a certain amount of similar sentiments in Haru.


	3. The Sown Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sown Forest lies in eternal winter, the subject of countless rumors and tall tales. While perhaps a picturesque wintry landscape any painter might be eager to depict, it's an unmistakably bleak place with no room for summertime fruit. Too bad it's exactly what our heroes need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is. uh. I think almost double the length of the last one, aha. Sorry for that sudden jump. I think the next one is long, too, but the two after that will probably be shorter. Probably. Anyway, finally, the story gets going, I hope. It was a bit of a slow start, I'm afraid orz  
> Also, a lot of different influences went into creating the world of these different tasks, and I hope they're not too distracting should they be recognizable, ha

The Sown Forest is near deathly silent, or… perhaps at least it feels that it _should_ be, but the crunching of the snow under their collective feet and an ever-present rumbling ambiance akin to a distant earthquake means there’s little true silence to be had. And even without that unexpected ambient background, something about the place doesn’t feel quite right. In every direction grow thin, white trees, scattered haphazardly and yet also in just the right formation to make the forest seem far too organized, tidy. Patterned. 

No matter where they look, the horizon stretches out over an immeasurable distance, and the white of the sky and that of the level, milky ground meld into one. Only the wispy, bare branches of the trees break up the monotony of the landscape.

“Well,” Baron finally thinks to remark, “The bright red of a holly berry is likely to stick out like a rather sore thumb in this environment, isn’t it?”

“Sure, if you can find the one dumb enough to grow right now,” Muta grumbles, burying his nose into the warmth of the scarf wrapped around his neck and grumpily huddling further into his coat.

“Now, let’s not lose faith so early, Muta. Should we remain positive and keep a cool head about this, we’re sure to succeed.”

“Yeah, that’s what you always say…” More grousing.

“We have only a limited amount of time to triumph over all three of these challenges, and I believe we’ll cover more ground if we split up into groups. Muta, Miss Haru— the two of you start in that direction. Mr. Vanya and I shall take the opposite. Toto, see if you can discern anything from the sky.”

“A berry— even a patch of berries, might be difficult to spot from an aerial view,” Toto responds as a gentle caution. “Even in such a uniform environment.”

“I know, but there’s no harm in trying anyhow.”

Toto nods. Then, more firmly than before, “And how do you propose we find this spot again to inevitably reconvene?”

Ah, bless Toto again, Haru thinks to herself briefly, because Baron looks rather comically bemused by this question, and she and Muta and Toto (if possibly even Vanya, the newcomer that he is) _know_ that this very important piece of information had not occurred to him while putting together his impromptu plan. He gives a pensive noise, one hand going to his chin as the other is planted on his hip.

Eventually, he glances at the trees surrounding them, appearing to have been struck by inspiration, and then removes his hat.

Wordlessly, he hangs it on one of the nearest branches, positioning it just so so it won’t slip off or blow away (though there’s not been even the slightest whisper of wind since they’d arrived). 

“Here we are. We’ll all meet back here in an hour— keep an eye on your own footprints. They’re all four of them different, and they should help to distinguish our separate paths.”

Something in Vanya’s gaze gleams as he looks to Baron’s hanging hat, though he ultimately turns away from it to rejoin the group. Instead, he hops like a particularly excited toddler to Haru and Muta (well, Haru, to be more truthful). In one of his paws is what appears to be a skewered snake or worm, which he wastes no time in handing sloppily to the teen, much to her dismay.

“For good luck _!_ This is a traditional Oostal charm good for finding tricky things. And we need all the good luck we can get _!_ ”

Haru looks swiftly to Muta for assistance, but the cat is leaning away from her with an expression that speaks to no less than _utter_ baffled disgust. Well. Strained gratitude it is, then, it seems.

“O-Ohh… You’re right, that’s a good idea— th-thank you.”

Vanya beams in a manner eerily reminiscent of the Cat King before scampering back over to his place beside Baron (and it’s only through their long shared history with the cat figurine that Toto and Muta both glean the subtle apprehension in his own expression, that he is mutely waiting in terror for the fox to hand _him_ one of these traditional charms as well). Vanya neglects to do so, however, and Baron’s subdued trepidation is gone almost as soon as it’d revealed itself.

“Remember— one hour. If all else fails, Toto at least should be able to reunite us.”

With that decided, they start off in their opposite directions, Toto taking wing into the sky.

_& &&_

It’s terribly easy to become disoriented in the Sown Forest, Haru and Muta quickly find out. If not for their own footprints, they swiftly agree they’d have long since been wandering in tight circles and not even realized it. The seamless boundary between land and sky and tree has Haru occasionally feeling rather like she’s walking on a spinning top which also wobbles across the table.

She eventually places the skewered… animal Vanya had given her down beneath a tree, shooting Muta an injured look when he comments on it.

“Looking a gift horse in the mouth, chicky? Didn’t think you had it in ya,” he cracks with a sardonic laugh.

“I’ll pick it back up before we head back to the others _!_ He’ll never even know. B-Because there’s no reason for me to actually carry it with me the whole time we’re looking…”

“I’m just picking on ya. You dropping that thing is gonna do wonders for my nose. Smells like a spoiled fish.” Then, with an annoyed huff, he continues, “I woulda thrown it at him— try to give _me_ some stinky dead thing on a stick—”

“Come on, he’s not that bad,” Haru tries, but she knows she doesn’t sound all that convinced herself. And Muta’s not about to let it go without comment, either.

“You don’t sound so sure to me, kid.”

Haru turns in her spot on her heel, feeling lost and restless in a hard-to-define way. The Sown Forest is devoid of rocks and bushes entirely; it’s nothing but thin scraggly trees, and she would never have imagined before now that to scour such a nebulous landscape might prove to be so _exasperating_. Where does one search for a pop of color when there are no hiding places? 

“...do you get… kind of a weird feeling from Vanya..?”

“Yeah,” Muta doesn’t hesitate to respond sourly. “He’s a tiny, annoying puffball with a bad laugh.”

“N— No, I mean— like an uneasy feeling. Like something is… um, _off_.”

“Probably ‘cause something _is_ off about him. I don’t trust that puffball.”

The relief Haru gains from such a simple sentence is near indeterminable. She almost leaps in victory.

“I knew it couldn’t be just me _!_ Well, and Toto, maybe, but he was more mum on the whole thing. You know how he is.”

“A gargoyle of few words, yeah, I guess. Real annoying, if you ask me. It’d be a lot easier if everyone just said what they mean instead of hanging on to secrets to keep the peace.”

Distantly, Haru gets the distinct impression this complaint has roots beyond the borders of the current situation, and she’s not sure what to say to it.

Muta, also, seems similarly surprised at himself, and in the end, he chooses to bulldoze past it, circling a few trees in the silence and eventually speaking up, “...Anyway, this Vanya creature pipsqueak is fishy, an’ I don’t like him. I don’t know what he is. Something old. And this _place_ is, too.”

“What about Baron? Do you think he’s being careful enough? He’s wandering around alone with Vanya right now…”

“Eh, Baron’s kind of a soft-hearted ham sometimes, but he’s no peabrain. He’ll be fine.”

“Is that really the best you can do to reassure me..?”

“What? I dunno what to tell you, chicky, it’s the truth.” 

“ _Yeah_ , but a little more optimism wouldn’t have hurt,” Haru mumbles plaintively.

“If you want, ya could bust on to the scene and rescue him from the puffball to pay him back. Hey, maybe he’ll start crushing on _you_ , then.”

_Oh_ , that calls for a heated blush. Haru stares down at the snow-covered ground of the Sown Forest, hands balled loosely into fists at her sides, though she’s trying desperately to play it all cool. Unfortunately, she’s never been much of an actor.

“He’s my friend— of _course_ I don’t want him to get hurt.”

Muta’s response of the beginnings of a chaffing laugh is not well-received; Haru spins around to protest, but— 

_Something_ comes shuffling into their space from behind a nearby tree. And something is all Haru can think to describe it as— smaller even than Vanya and Siree, with a long, snuffling snout and a soft, bean bag body. The tiny creature lacks arms or wings of any kind, giving it an awkward, waddling gait. Missing also are eyes and any noticeable ears.

Yet the strangest thing is that it appears to have been sewn together out of scraps of colorfully-patterned fabric, much like a quilt. (It triggers a memory of her mother’s handiwork, in fact, and the very idea of her mother back at home, in the real world, throws Oostal’s alienness into stark relief. She’s so terribly far from home.)

Muta and Haru watch the little thing waddle between them and then down the way from them in silence before looking back to each other.

“What is it, Muta?” Haru asks. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“What, you never had a stuffed animal before?”

“Stuffed animals don’t _walk_ , Muta,” Haru responds with a huff.

“Eh, shows what you know.”

Whatever response Haru might have had to this lazy red herring abruptly trails off, because the funny little creature, having paused for a brief moment, now drops its floppy snout onto the ground and continues on in a faintly opposite direction, snorting softly the whole way.

“It must be one of the rumored inhabitants of the Sown Forest, right?”

“Yeh. Bet it’ll lead us to those rumored holly berries, too, if we’re careful about it.”

“Now you’re starting to sound like Baron.”

Muta darts out from beside her with a faint derisive groan. “Remind me to scratch you later for that one.”

_& &&_

Following a colorful (albeit very small) waddling quilt animal through an otherwise blinding array of white snow and sky proves to be _astonishingly_ more difficult than either Muta or Haru would have expected. More than once they somehow lose sight of the thing, only to have to stop and strain their ears for its characteristic snuffling breaths. 

“It has two little stick legs and waddles like a sedated duck,” Muta complains at one point when they’ve lost it again. “How do we keep losin’ track of it _?!_ ”

“Hold on— Muta, I hear it again. It sounds really close.” Then, after a few seconds spent listening, she adds, “...Actually, it… sounds a little like it’s _eating_ something, doesn’t it?”

This is all Muta seems to need to hear before turning on his heel and starting the opposite way.

“Where are you going?” Haru calls after him.

“I’m out _!_ ” He hollers back. “Nothing good comes outta anything that involves weird creatures feasting on stuff, I don’t care what it’s actually— woah _!!_ ”

“What is it— Muta, what’s wrong?” Haru dashes in the direction of his voice, fearing the worst. Yet she finds him with little difficulty, and in one piece, poised in the same horrified position a housewife might take were she confronted with a trail of muddy footprints across a formerly pristine linoleum floor.

At his feet, so close he could stretch out a paw and tip the little thing over were he so inclined, is the patchwork animal they’d been struggling to track… and the good luck charm Haru had abandoned earlier, which appears a little worse for the wear.

Muta dashes behind her with an unsteady gait, complaining the entire way. “Ughh, it’s even _worse_ than what I was thinking— _!_ ”

“Come on, it’s not _that_ bad,” Haru tries, even as she takes a repulsed step back at the faint sound of tearing meat and flinches. “...it’s still pretty bad, though.”

It’s as they’re watching from a couple paces away that the little thing lifts its ostensible head to… well, scrutinize them, Haru supposes, though it lacks the eyes to do so. Perhaps there is another, hidden sense that allows it to see in a less traditional manner.

_Your trade is acceptable_.

Haru can’t quite place it, how she Knows that this is what the creature before Muta and her is communicating, as it hadn’t spoken aloud, nor does she hear the words echoing in her mind as one might expect of a bizarre display of telepathy. Yet, still, the resounding statement is clear.

“O-Oh—” She starts, and her voice is like an echoing gunshot in the silence of the forest, which leads her to whisper her next words, “We’re, um, glad you like it.”

Then, as they watch, it drops its head again and continues tearing delicate slivers off the charm, seemingly oblivious to their presence again.

“Well, now what?” Muta says at her feet. He’s still eyeing the patchwork creature with no small measure of antipathy, but he’s at least not subtly hiding behind Haru anymore.

“I guess we… wait for it to finish..?”

“Great.” Muta sits down with an annoyed huff. “Doesn’t it know we’re on a tight schedule here?”

Haru laughs, but it’s tinged with a speck of nervousness.

If not for the unmistakable noise of flapping wings over the ever present hum of the forest, the resultant wind would certainly give Toto’s arrival away— there’s been not even the barest hint of a breeze since they’ve been searching. The crow perches atop a nearby tangle of branches, cocking his head in a distinctly avian fashion at the creature they’ve run across.

“Ha, looks like you’ve found one of the inhabitants.”

“What was your _first_ clue?”

“The quilt creature down there, mostly.”

Muta, again feeling indirectly bested, only grumbles lowly to himself and crosses his arms. Instead, Haru speaks up.

“It’s taking this good luck charm as a trade for the berry. At least, that’s what it sounded like to me. I guess it’ll… um, show us the way once it’s finished..? I’m not sure how it works.”

“Sounds plausible to me. Baron and Vanya are some ways off in that direction,” Toto also adds, gesturing with his wing. “I’ll go to let them know they can stop searching, and bring them here. Be right back _!_ ”

Haru and Muta watch him take off, and for a little while until he’s too far in the distance for them to make out, before turning back to their… companions. It seems in their distraction, more of the little quilt animals had arrived, attracted no doubt by the scent of the ‘good luck charm’ Haru had laid down before the tree.

“They really like this icky stuff, don’t they?” Haru muses in an almost-laugh.

Muta pokes one of them on the top of its soft head, causing it to lose its balance and fall to the side. Grudgingly, he sets it rightside up again. “...Guess that little _pipsqueak_ knew what he was talking about, after all.”

_& &&_

Elsewhere, Toto’s return trip hits an unforeseen, somewhat bizarre snag.

“The Very Pretty Vanya Creature does not fly through the air like an unsolicited blown kiss _!_ ” 

Baron and Toto share a puzzled, if slightly frazzled, look between them.

“Mr. Vanya, I sympathize if it’s a matter of a… ah, disdain for heights, but the time limit with which we’ve been burdened is perpetually ticking down, and we ought to do all we can to minimize wasted time,” Baron first tries.

“I’m a very careful flier, too. I promise you’ll have your feet on solid ground in no time at all,” Toto also adds.

But Vanya only shakes his head. “It is no matter of fear _!_ ” He begins in a manner that says fear is _exactly_ the matter. “It is the principle _!_ Pretty Vanya has no wings. He was meant to stay on the ground.”

It seemed there would be no convincing him. Baron turns to Toto.

“Toto, do you think then that you could fly a little ways overhead and guide us to the others? If we hurry, perhaps we’ll still make good time.”

Before them, Vanya wrings his paws fretfully before finally throwing one arm across his eyes and crying out, “Pretty Vanya must be left behind _!_ He is the millstone dragging everyone else down _!_ ”

“N-Now— Mr. Vanya, please, don’t despair—”

“The Most Helpful Bureau _must_ leave me behind,” Vanya insists again, this time without his face hidden, fixing Baron with a determined look. “I said it before, didn’t I? The Pretty Vanya Creature will meet you there in no time, because he is very fast.”

Faced with Vanya’s clear obstinate refusal and the added stress of a ticking clock, it doesn’t take long for Baron to give in, though the veneer of reluctance lingers over him still.

“V… Very well, Mr. Vanya. If you do insist. We’ll go on without you.”

"You will. But there's no reason to worry. It'll be all okay _!_ "

"...Yes. Of course. Be careful."

As they’re flying away, Toto speaks up. “Do you think he’ll make it?”

Baron seems reluctant to answer, gaze distant and unfocused. Coupled with his stilted posture, it gives him the look of someone who is quite diligently trying to avoid jumping to an unpleasant conclusion.

“...It doesn’t matter,” he eventually responds quietly. “I suppose it’s not something which overtly needs his presence.”

“What about _co_ vertly?”

“Then we shall hope for the best.”

_& &&_

True to Toto’s ultimately fruitless attempts at reassurance, it seems only a matter of seconds when they have their feet back on solid ground, spotting Muta and Haru from the air easily enough and touching down just shy of them in the hopes of not startling the by now bristling crowd of tiny quilted animals surrounding the other two.

“Eh? Where’s the pipsqueak?”

“He chose to find his own way to our location,” Baron first explains in his impeccable manner.

“Scared of heights,” is Toto’s more honest addition.

Muta turns back to the quilt animals with an unimpressed scowl. “ _Figures_. Just make _us_ do all the dirty work.”

“Now, Muta, a genuine fear of heights is nothing to brush off.”

“Yeah, _if_ it’s genuine…” Mumbled under his breath, but distinct enough for them all to hear, and that Baron (nor the other two) step in to offer a defense is telling… but also serves at least to inform them all that they’re all four on the same page.

“What about these little guys? Have they brought up the trade or the berry again?”

“No. I think they wanted to finish off the, um… trade first,” Haru says, looking from Baron and Toto to the gathering of quilt animals scattered about before them. She sits crouched on her haunches with her elbows on her thighs, gazing out at their odd companions with the same detached but amiable curiosity one might reserve for a child’s play.

“Can they really stretch out that one sticky charm enough for this many to have a bite of it?” She eventually notes with some incredulous amusement.

“They’re sure gonna try,” Muta snorts.

Finally, as they watch, in the distance it looks as if there are languid waves in the sea of brightly-colored patchwork, divots in the throng that speak to the movement of only a few individuals while the others part to let them pass.

It doesn’t take long; they soon find themselves approached for an apparent audience with a… _particularly_ diminutive individual which separates from the group, one which also appears to have been adorned with a tattered shawl thrown over its body, which trails like a leaden weight after it (though upon closer inspection, this threadbare train is simply part of the little thing’s frame).

Some of the seams on its patchwork appear to be coming undone. Distantly, Haru wonders what will happen should they truly do so, and— quite swiftly derails her own thoughts before they can wander down distressing paths.

Strikingly, also, unlike the others, this one has been endowed with an eye— a single coffee-colored iris in startlingly familiar, human-shaped white sclera. Situated somewhat strangely off-centered atop its tapered, drooping head, it stares vacantly ahead, half-lidded.

The four of them feel themselves scrutinized by this seeming elder; even Muta has no complaint to offer in an attempt to hurry the process along.

_Only one_.

Haru can’t quite place it, how she Knows that this is what the little creature before them all is communicating, as it hadn’t spoken aloud, nor does she hear the words echoing in her mind as one might expect of a bizarre display of telepathy. Yet, still, the resounding caveat is clear.

Baron nods stiffly, appearing to have been caught off-guard in the same way the rest of them had. “Yes. Just the one.”

The quilt-like creature responds with some erratic, floppy movements that vaguely resemble an affirmative nod before placing the tapered end of its cloth snout into Baron’s hands, where it drops a single round, bright red berry. It’s about the size of a particularly plump blueberry, though it seems quite larger in Baron’s gloved hands. Seemingly satisfied, the little animal turns then, and begins to waddle away.

“Thank you,” Haru thinks to call after it.

Not too far into the future, they will all four find themselves remembering this particular phrase and wonder furiously why such an innocuous one seemed to have such a profound effect upon the Sown Forest’s minuscule inhabitants. For now, however, it’s little more than a curiosity, when the creature abruptly stops with an accompanying jerk, and then goes quite still.

The others surrounding them, too, copy this one’s motions.

“Uhh, I don’t like the look of that—” Muta starts, but he’s rather abruptly cut off by a hoarse, low-pitched bark which echoes through their surroundings. The four of them instinctively back up in alarm, a sentiment which only grows upon witnessing the little things begin convulsing, tossing their heads into the air and then back down, all the while emitting those same short roars like a baleful staccato.

“That’s _loud_ —”

“I think it’s time we took our leave,” Baron says (he makes a motion to steady his hat, only to belatedly realize he’d left it behind). He’d liked that hat.

No sooner have they turned on their collective tails and fled that the Sown Forest’s inhabitants scuttle and crawl after them in whatever way they can, and despite their obvious disadvantages, the little things are startlingly adept at keeping up with them. Haru doesn’t have the nerve to give their pursuers the thorough, lingering look she wants, too intent on making sure her pounding steps remain even and sound, but the tight-knit mob’s thunderous pursuit is impossible to mistake. It’s not long before panicked discouragement sets in. To everyone’s surprise, it’s Baron who speaks up first.

“We won’t be outrunning them on foot—”

“Good thing we have a gargoyle chicken, then, isn’t it _?!_ ” Muta snaps, then calls to said ‘gargoyle chicken,’ “Hey, birdbrain— _!_ ”

“Toto’s many good and admirable things, Muta, but I doubt even he is strong enough to carry a full-grown human—”

Haru, overhearing this, burns with the inclination to wildly apologize, all too aware of the cracks of the trees and the deafening crunch of packed snow behind them. She bows her head in remorse, feeling fervently in this moment that her decision to tag along really had been a mistake. She’s so close to contemplating how far she might get should she separate from the group and divert the creatures away… when she notices something rather strange.

“ _Wait_ —” Haru gasps, glancing down to herself in a bewildered fashion, so much so that for a fleeting second she stops in her tracks and has to be tugged along by Baron. “I’m not the same size I was— when did I get this **small** — _?!_ ”

Baron sounds just as bewildered when he answers, though he at least moves past it, “Let’s not kick a gift horse, now— Toto _!_ ”

“Got it _!_ ”

If Toto at all struggles with the effort to carry all three of them, even if Haru has been unexplainably shrunken, then he’s quite gifted with hiding it. He takes off into the air with them, far above the swarming quilt creatures, with no less agility than he usually does, and Baron and Haru spend the next few moments surveying the horde raptly.

“Ya just _had_ to thank them, didn’t you?” Comes Muta’s complaint from his not altogether eager spot in Toto’s talons.

“I was just trying to be polite _!_ ” Haru counters just as plaintively, but even she sounds at least a little remorseful. “What kind of place takes words of gratitude as an offense..?”

“They don’t show any signs of slowing down,” Baron notes.

“Are they really gonna chase us all the way to the border _?!_ They barely have the legs to run _!_ You _really_ steamed them with that gratitude BS, chicky.”

“I didn’t _mean_ to,” Haru laments.

“We know you didn’t, Haru, “ Toto tries to reassure.

“Ah, it’s Vanya,” Baron says with a nod in the fox’s direction; he looks quite small (smaller than usual, that is) from their height, rapidly looking between them in the air and the horde of… well, what look to be furious blankets swarming the forest below them. He’s motioning frantically to them to come closer, to land as quickly as they can.

“Is he crazy _?!_ There’s no way we’re landing that close to the forest— if he doesn’t make a break for it, he’s gonna get smothered, too,” Muta says.

Seemingly as an exasperated response to their stubbornness, Vanya points to the forest behind them with an agitated zealousness, or, perhaps more specifically, the perimeter which is teeming with untold numbers of the tiny quilt creatures. The vast majority of them pace behind the line of trees, fretful and overwrought; the unfortunate few that have accidentally tumbled beyond it lie scattered and twitching on the snow-covered ground like marooned fish.

“What’s wrong with them..?”

“Looks like they can’t go beyond the trees,” Toto guesses.

When they land, still uneasy from the agitated mass of patchwork continuing to obsessively tread back and forth just a scant stone’s throw away, Vanya is swift to bound over to them, practically throwing himself at Baron and wrapping his arms around the Creation. If Baron had appeared disconcerted at the mere possibility of being given one of Vanya’s messy luck charms, he’s downright alarmed when being in no uncertain terms ‘glomped’ by the same creature.

“You made it _!_ Pretty Vanya was worried _!_ ”

“What’s wrong with the forest’s inhabitants, Vanya?”

Vanya lets Baron go (much to his evident relief) and cants his head in thought. “The Sown Forest exists as a powerful transformative milieu. Stay too long and one becomes part of it. The inhabitants can’t leave it.”

“What will happen to the ones that accidentally fell out of bounds?” Haru asks, glancing to the small number of quilt animals still lying pitifully just out of reach of the border of trees.

“They will die,” Vanya answers with a shrug. “Eventually.”

“But that’s awful _!_ Can’t we just push them back into the forest..? Will they go back to normal then?”

“Yes.” Vanya sounds confused.

“Then that’s what I’ll do,” Haru says, starting for the border with a marked lack of hesitation. “There aren’t that many— it shouldn’t take long, should it?”

“Even less with assistance,” Baron agrees shortly, following after her.

“I guess we’re doing this now.” Muta, as well, trails after the two with a sullen grumble.

“Cheer up, kitty, exercise is good for you.”

“Don’t make me _cook_ you.”

Behind them, Vanya, still holding Baron’s hat as if it were a priceless artifact, watches them leave with a hard to define look, moving just a foot or two from side to side (but never so much as a half-step forward). His tail twitches and flutters in a manner quite reminiscent of an inquisitive squirrel, with the searching mien to accompany it, but he ultimately says nothing and seems to content himself with killing time.


End file.
